A Murder and a Love Story
by LightPhyre
Summary: Princess Bulma grew up under the strict rule of her parents, and so when she came of age, she turned down the crown, and instead joined the Interplanetary Police Force for a life of adventure. But when the King of Planet Vegeta-sei is murdered, and Bulma must pair up with the savage and dangerous Saiyan prince, she realizes she may have bitten off more than she could chew. Rated M.
1. Prologue: A Child's Dream

**Prologue: A Child's Dream**

July 18, 2078

It was the child's seventh birthday today. She was beautiful, just like her mother, and there was no doubt in her parents' minds that she would grow into an intelligent, independent queen one day. And when her father, the King, passed away, she would take the throne and show her planet and her people just how dedicated she was to them. She had been raised for her future role as Queen since she could speak.

The child's name was Bulma Briefs, princess and heir to the throne of Planet Earth. She had long aquamarine locks and bright blue eyes to match. She walked down the carpeted staircase to the large dining area to celebrate her seventh birthday with her beloved parents and their advisors. Her long auburn gown was adorned with gems and jewels and lace, and she wore matching flat shoes of the same color. Her hair had been pulled back and curled by the maids for her dinner on this special occasion.

Bulma stepped through the doorway into the dining room as two guards opened the double doors for her. They shut them behind her and she stepped to her seat, holding her head high. Her parents were already seated and they watched her with pride. One of the butlers came up behind her to pull out her chair.

"Bulma, dear. How was your afternoon? We haven't seen you all day," her mother, the Queen asked politely. Bulma lifted the hem of her gown as she sat in her chair lined with red velvet and seated with a red silk on red oak.

"I have been catching up on my studies, Mother," she replied in the same polite tone.

"On your birthday?" her mother asked, "My, you are a very dedicated young woman. I'm sure you're very excited about your future."

"What were you studying?" her father, the King asked, and Bulma noted on his cautious tone. She was always in her room, reading books, and she knew how that made her father feel sometimes.

"Only the history of your beloved planet, Father. You do know that it is my favorite thing to learn about these days."

"Oh? And what time period have you been reading about this morning and afternoon?"

Bulma gulped. Was it possible that her father knew her secret? She thought she'd hidden it very well. She never left her books out, and she never received them from anyone whom her parents could trace or track. Most of her secret reading material came from the maids and butlers, and her favorite small collection had been given to her as a gift from a stranger on the streets when she was riding into town one day.

Bulma's secret was that she had been reading books that had been written long ago, by authors that no one remembered. Her parents monitored the books she had been given as a child, saying that a princess should not be reading certain things because it was improper for royalty to do as the common people did. But Bulma had quite a few books that she knew her parents would never approve of. They were epic tales of heroes and damsels in distress, and she loved them more than anything in the world. She loved to read about women in armor going off to battle in secret, and the poor young boys that would fall in love with a woman they believed they could never have. As a child, Bulma delighted in stories that she could relate to, and tales of heroism that she wished she could experience for herself.

But she was being prepared for the throne, and there were no decisions she could make on her own until she was of age. Bulma dreamed of that day, when she would glorify herself in adulthood and make her own choices. She wanted to go out and see the world. She'd never been out of the town surrounding her palace, and she knew that there had to be more out there. Her books told her that much, and she grew increasingly curious over her short seven years of life.

"I have been reading about the Civil Wars that broke out across the planet when we stopped being separate nations and joined together. I am making sure I know how our world came to be the way it is now. After all, a princess must know all there is to know about the land she will govern one day. Isn't that right, Father?" she said. It was no easy task to trick her parents, but she had to admit that she did it quite well.

"It is indeed, Bulma," her father replied with the same proud smile her mother had given her earlier.

"It is very admirable that you would take so much care into learning at such a young age," her mother cooed, "But maybe it would be better if you began to read about the land you live in today, instead of delving into the past. The past is important, but the present is even more so."

"I will keep that in mind the next time I pick up a book, Mother," Bulma responded with a smile.

"Well now," her father said, clapping his hands together two times. The butlers straightened their postures and looked towards him. "Enough of this formal talk. It is my daughter's seventh birthday, and we will celebrate as such. Bring out the food." He clapped his hands together once more and the butlers scurried towards the kitchen. He then looked to Bulma with a grin. "And after we have rested following our meal, we will celebrate with the public. We will take a carriage to town and give the people a show. What do you say, Bulma?"

"That sounds wonderful, Father. I would sincerely enjoy that," she replied.

Bulma Briefs watched as the long dining table in front of her began to fill up with many plates and bowls of delicious food. She was poured a small glass of dry wine and she lifted it to her lips to taste the flavor. It was aged to perfection.

Bulma may have seemed like the perfect princess, but her thoughts always came back to adventure and the things she so desperately wanted to experience. She knew she would never be able to express these feelings to her parents, so she kept them bottled up for eleven more years. And when she finally came of age and was given the choice to make her own decisions and live her life how she wanted to, she took full advantage of the golden opportunity.

Princess Bulma had finally grown up…


	2. The Saiyan Prince

**Chapter One: Pilot- The Saiyan Prince**

November 7, 2091

"Fuck!" Yamcha shouted, "Where the fuck did you go?!"

She was doing it again. Why he'd been paired with a hotheaded girl like Bulma was beyond him. She wanted to do everything by herself, and he was always stuck on the sidelines, watching her make careless mistakes and taking the blame for it.

It was always like this. She had a plan and he could only stand by and watch it fail. Then she would call out for him to help her before they both got killed from her irrational impulses. He stood still as a stone statue, white knuckled from gripping his pistol so tightly. Bulma was nowhere in sight, and he had no idea what they were up against this time. She was a genius when it came to numbers and scientific things, but everyone knew that when it came to scheming and listening to your gut feelings, Bulma was a little lacking.

Now Yamcha stood with his loaded gun in both hands, waiting for her usual shout for him to come and help her get out of some mess she'd managed to get herself into. But he hadn't heard back from her since she ran off about five minutes ago. They were partners, but Bulma never seemed to comprehend the simple logic of teamwork.

"Bulma!" Yamcha called out. It was dusk on Planet Gania, and the Ganians weren't exactly the friendliest species in the universe. Their assignment was to track down a bomb that had been planted somewhere near the aristocracy's mansion, defuse it, and leave the planet without making a scene. But Bulma said that she was going to find out who put it there as well, which meant that she was looking to find some fingerprints on the bomb. The Ganians had plenty of enemies that would want to blow up their capital building, so the bomb wasn't exactly a surprise to either of them.

"This way!" Bulma voice called from somewhere in the distance. Yamcha quickly followed it through the darkness. Planet Gania had no moon, so their nights were always pitch black. The only source of light was a small lamp on Yamcha's weapons belt, but it didn't let him see very far.

He ran down a corridor and rounded a corner, and relief flooded through his bones as he spotted Bulma's standout aquamarine hair reflecting the light of his lamp.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he whispered angrily, "You do know that we're supposed to do this together, don't you? You can't keep running off every time you think you have a plan."

"But I do," Bulma said excitedly. "Look." She held up a thin piece of transparent plastic, and Yamcha noticed that there were fingerprints on it. "Now we can find out who put this damn thing here in the first place. I already defused the first part of the bomb, but there are a few more steps I have to take to make sure it doesn't blow us all sky high."

Yamcha nodded and held up his lamp for her to see. She reached for a pair of snips from her weapons belt and looked over a few of the wires on the contraption. Yamcha knew that this was Bulma's specialty. Bombs were out of his league. He'd been in the army before he got this job, so he knew he was basically hired as a mercenary. Plus, he was paired with Bulma because they complimented each other. They each were strong in the things that the other lacked. Bulma was the brains and he was the brawn.

"Hey! Who's down there?!" A gurgling voice called from further down the corridor, but the translator at Yamcha's belt instantly interpreted it for them to understand.

"Shit," Yamcha whispered, "Bulma, you've got to get moving. The aristocracy's security is heading straight for us. And they aren't too fond of humans, especially when they show up unannounced on their home planet."

"I'm going as fast as I can, but if this isn't done properly, the bomb will go off, and everyone in this building will die. And that includes the leaders of this planet. If they weren't here to rule, the people would riot. This planet would be doomed. I just need more time."

"You don't have more time, Bulma!"

Heavy footsteps became louder and louder and soon, bright white lights rounded the corner and were being shined directly in their faces. Yamcha gulped as he heard the sound of weapon being readied.

"Uh… Bulma," he said, backing up against the wall behind him. "Please! Ganians, listen to me! There is a bomb here and we are trying to defuse it. If you don't let us continue our work, we could all be killed."

"Don't bother," Bulma said, still working as quickly as she could on defusing the bomb. But she was going to need more time than she knew she had. "Ganians don't speak English. They can't understand what you're saying."

"Then maybe they'll understand universal language," he commented, and then shouted, "Boom!" at the top of his lungs, bringing his arms up over his head, trying to make them understand that an explosion was about to happen. But instead, they took it as a threat, and Yamcha watched as a spiked bullet, standard for every Ganian weapon, hit Bulma in the side and she fell to the ground as bubbled blood came out of her deep wound. She dropped instantly and didn't move.

"Bulma!" he shouted. Another spiked bullet hit him square in the chest and he coughed up blood as he fell against the wall and slid down it, leaving a smear of crimson behind on the paint. That was it. They were both going to die…

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X

"You're such an idiot!" Bulma screamed, grabbing a towel off the shelf to her left as she got out of the simulator pod. She was drenched in sweat. "What do you think they're going to do if you scream and wave your arms in the air? That's not universal language for _bomb_ , Yamcha. That's universal language for _shoot me_! And I was almost done defusing that damned thing. All I needed was about fifteen seconds more and we would have beaten that level. Now we've got to start all over again!"

"I'm not doing that again," Yamcha snorted angrily, pushing the glass top of his simulator pod over his shoulders and sitting up. He stretched his arms above his head before placing his right palm over the place where he had been shot in the training simulation. "That really hurt," he added, rubbing his chest and making sure he was okay. "Those bullets should be illegal. They kind of tear you apart from the inside." he stood and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat off his face before turning to Bulma. "Why do you always have to waste so much time?" he asked.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" she asked, throwing her towel onto the floor and placing a hand on her hip.

"You knew that or mission was to find and defuse the bomb before we were caught sneaking around on that planet uninvited. It took us almost an entire day just to find out where the stupid thing was, and when we finally found it and we had plenty of time to complete our assignment, you decided that you want those fucking fingerprints and you ran off and left me in the dark! Those fingerprints weren't even part of our mission! It wasn't required! And because you wanted to go above and beyond, we lost! If that was real I would be dead right now because of you!"

"Sometimes it's better to do something that isn't required. We would have needed those fingerprints if that had been real so that we knew who was trying to kill the Ganians' leaders. Without knowing that, we'd be stuck at a dead end and we'd have no leads. And I'd much rather be dead than waste my time on a mission that doesn't get us anywhere."

"Well, unfortunately for you, I would rather be alive! I'd rather waste my time than risk my life and my _partner's_ life because I'm too fucking arrogant to admit that I could only do what I was told to do. And to be completely honest, Bulma, I'm sick and tired of being your partner! You take unnecessary risks that endanger not only your life and our assignments, but my life, too. And I don't want to have a partner that doesn't give a damn about me anymore! Simulations are one thing, but your attitude is seriously going to get me killed! So I'm done! I'm filing for a new partner immediately."

"Fine," Bulma spat, storming out of the training room. She headed for the boss's office, passing the penal chambers along the way and listening to the screams and cussing of the people and aliens inside who had committed horrible crimes. They were only in there for transportation to their home planets for their own species' form of justice, whatever that may be. But sometimes it took weeks or even months to deliver a criminal to his people, and that made some of the inmates very cranky and that often led to an increase in shouting.

She approached her boss's office and gently knocked the back of her knuckles against the closed door. The sign above the door read "Earth's Interplanetary Police Department," which was also known as EIPD. The name on the door, at eye level on a bronze plaque was the name Piccolo. Piccolo was the head of this division of the EIPD, and he was also who Bulma reported to. He was a very intense man, and he took his job very seriously.

Piccolo was also from a different planet. He was a Namekian warrior, who had fought many battles on his home planet of Namek when he was younger. Many of the people in charge of the different sections of the EIPD were not human, as a sign that Earth was fair and didn't arrest aliens for the sheer purpose of expressing their power over other species. But, of course, the most powerful people on Earth controlled the EIPD from the top of the chain of command, and naturally, they were human, born and raised on Planet Earth.

Bulma didn't mind having a green-skinned man as her boss, though. He was a tell-it-like-it-is kind of guy, and she respected that in a leader. He knew how to get a job done and who was best fit for each job he was given to hand out. Plus, Bulma knew that he acknowledged her talents, and she knew that she was a valuable asset to Piccolo's division of EIPD. He needed her, and sometimes she used that to her advantage.

"Come in," Piccolo said from inside his office, and Bulma slowly opened the door. "Bulma, this is a coincidence. I was just about to call you down here. I have a new mission for you," he said when he looked up and noticed her walking into the room. She closed the door behind her.

"Well, sir," Bulma began , standing tall at attention, "I came here to tell you that Yamcha and I would prefer to be partnered with someone else. We haven't been getting along as well as we used to recently, and it has been affecting our performances during our assignments and in the training rooms."

"Well, that's all right for now, because you won't paired with Yamcha on this assignment," Piccolo said, folding his hands together on the mahogany desk in front of him. "I need you to partner up with someone new for this one, and when you get back, the three of us will sit down and discuss new partnerships for both of you. Does that sound acceptable to you?"

"Yes, sir," Bulma said, nodding once.

"Good, because I wasn't about to give you an option," Piccolo said, and then continued, "We've just received word that there has been a murder on one of Earth's allied planets, but the murderer is unknown. You will be partnering up with one of the indigenous people of that planet and your assignment is to find out who the murderer is and report back to me. Do you understand? I know you have a habit of going above and beyond my expectations of you, Bulma, but it is very important that you follow my orders this time. I want you to find out what you can about the murder and the killer, and report back to Earth immediately after."

"Yes, sir," Bulma said, nodding again.

"As for your substitute partner, he is a Saiyan. Do you know anything about the Saiyans?"

"Yes, sir. The Saiyans are a warrior race who used to eliminate entire populations for a profit. They stopped this heinous behavior when other populations began to fight back with equal strength that they had never shown before. The Saiyans were almost wiped out completely, but their leader at the time made the choice to create treaties with other planets instead of destroying them or selling them to other species that had lost their homes.

"Their home planet is Vegeta-sei, and their kings and queens have always come from the same bloodline. Not once has another family taken control of the planet in all of its history. They are most known for—"

"All right, Bulma. That's very good," Piccolo said quickly, interrupting her. Bulma mumbled an apology. "Now here's the difficult part. The man that was murdered about eight days ago was King Vegeta, the current ruler of Vegeta-sei. There are speculations of who might have killed him, but the only person who claimed he was a witness was the king's son, the prince and future leader. And with only one witness and no evidence, the prince's claims were ignored."

"So what you're saying is that I should first find the prince and speak with him about whom he believes the killer was," Bulma commented, thinking out loud.

"There's no need for that," Piccolo said, "You don't have to look very far, because the prince is here, and he's going to be you temporary partner for this mission." Bulma gawked. She had to work with the prince of a race that thrived on violence and the heat of a fight? That wasn't her idea of fun. "He was the one who informed me about the murder and told me most of the story. He arrived here on Earth only this morning, and my contact with Vegeta-sei this afternoon informed me of the parts Vegeta happened to leave out, for whatever reason."

"Why did he come here? There are many other Interplanetary Police Force bases that are much closer to Vegeta-sei. This trip must have taken him over a week. He could have told someone much sooner."

"He claimed that the man who murdered his father was trying to kill him as well, and he didn't have the time to set a destination into his space pod as he was escaping. He said his ship just took him to Earth and it wasn't his choice." Piccolo stood from his desk and walked towards the door, opening it and motioning for Bulma to exit his office. "It's time for you to meet your new partner, Bulma."

"Yes, sir," she said, exiting through the open door and nodding her appreciation for him being so gentlemanly as to hold it open for her. But then a thought hit her and she turned to him as he closed the door and walked in front of her. "Sir? If I may ask a question, Saiyans are notorious for their battle skills and their strength. And I can't help but be aware that the Vegeta Ouji bloodline has always been the most infamously ferocious and ill-tempered. I was just wondering how this pairing is supposed to be beneficial to my mission. I am only human, and a Saiyan's strength could easily outmatch mine."

"This is, of course, something I've already considered," Piccolo said sorrowfully, "But the prince has been insisting that he be a part of our operations in putting his father's killer behind bars, or sentenced to death as he would have it. Besides, his people and Earth have a treaty and it would not be in his best interest to harm anyone of the EIPD, especially when Vegeta-sei does not have a legitimate ruler at the moment. This Vegeta is not the king yet. Remember that, Bulma. He is still only the planet's prince, and the throne will sit empty until his coronation."

"And that can't be done until they find out who killed the king, or at least wait a while if they can't," Bulma added thoughtfully. "Yes, that's good to know."

They walked down the hall in silence to the only waiting room in the building. "Unfortunately," Piccolo said, stopping her from opening the door for a moment with his hand in her way, "We don't have much information on the prince. We knew close to everything we'd need about his father in this situation, but this Saiyan has only just turned twenty-one years old. And we don't usually require a lot of information on such people that are not yet in a position of high authority. This is unfortunate because I must order you to spend some time with him in the training room and in the more advanced simulations, just to see how the two of you work together before I actually send you out with him. The increase in the abilities of the species you may come in contact with is an issue that comes with problems involving the Saiyans, and I regret having to deal with their problems right now. And for that reason, this is going to be the most difficult mission I've ever given you. And to be honest, I wasn't entirely against the prince's wishes to be part of the investigation. He is one of the strongest Saiyans alive, and it's obvious that his abilities will be a valuable asset to you. Now…" He paused. "It's time to meet the Saiyan Prince, Vegeta Ouji," he said, and he turned the doorknob to the waiting room.

Unlike before, he held Bulma back and walked through the door before her, for obvious safety reasons. Bulma mentally thanked him. She realized that she was nervous and actually a little afraid to meet this elite Saiyan warrior, and to be paired with him for her assignment. She wondered how she was going to deal with a Saiyan's bad temper and a prince's high-and-mighty attitude, and successfully complete her mission at the same time.

"It's about fucking time," a low, deep voice snarled angrily, and Bulma entered the room. She looked around the room and came eye-to-eye with who she knew must have been the Saiyan prince.

The young man was eye-catching, and Bulma found that she couldn't look away for the first few moments. The first thing she noticed was the shape of him, sitting in the metal chair with his arms crossed firmly over his tight-muscled chest, disrespect and arrogance written all over his face. His expression was definitely that of a warrior species, and it looked like he as a prince who always got what he wanted—whether from being royalty or from just being a dick to other people.

As for his physicality, each muscle that rippled over his arms was clearly defined. His tight blue tank top enveloped every crease and every fold over the muscles in his upper body. And of what she could see, he looked like he knew how to handle himself. Not just while fighting, like the Saiyans she'd seen in her textbooks. He looked like he knew how to take care of himself, inside and out. His expression showed that he was independent, as if he needed no one, nor would he ever ask anyone for help. Bulma instantly found that an admirable quality, but wondered if it made him a hot-head.

The next thing she noticed about him was his wild hair. It shot straight into the air, defying all the laws of gravity. But Bulma was aware of the Saiyan's lack of change as they aged. They had growth spurts when they hit puberty, around the same age as Earthlings, and then they never aged again until they got old. Also, their hair remained the same as the day they were born. It never grew out or needed to be cut. It looked soft and silky, like he used way too much conditioner in his shower this morning. And the color of his hair was mesmerizing. It was clearly ebony, a darker black than anything Bulma had ever seen. But when he turned his head to look around, or when he looked up at her, she watched dark shades of red, brown and even purple dance in his midnight hair.

Bulma found herself drawn to his eyes next, because although his hair was dark and beautiful, his eyes were even darker. They seemed to be endless pools of black water, of which you could never reach or see the bottom. And even from the distance she was from him, across the large room, looking into those dark onyx orbs gave her a prickle of goose bumps up her arms, and she felt her hairs rising, like he was an animal who'd just broken his collar and was wild and free. She felt intimidated and thrilled at the same time, and it sent strange shocks up and down her spine. She shivered and Piccolo glanced at her. She shot him a look that told him that she was all right and he nodded before turning to the Saiyan prince.

"Prince Vegeta," he said with a slight bow. Bulma jumped and bowed as well, not sure if she was supposed to or not, but thinking that it was best not to get on his bad side this early in their partnership. "This is my best officer, Bulma Takahashi. You will be working with her from now until this crisis is resolved."

"You humans and your infatuation with the female species' equality," he spat, glaring at Bulma, "You people sicken me."

"Excuse me?" Bulma asked, taken aback by his rude comment.

"It's just another reason why your people are so low on the interstellar food chain. You can clearly see that the male gender is stronger than the female, not in all races, but definitely in yours. And you, Namekian, have the guts to tell me that this _woman_ ," he said the word in a disgusted tone, "is the best that you have? I'm insulted. I'd be better off on my own than with a weak Earthling female. She looks like she could barely perform in the bedroom."

"Are you going to be a pain in my ass for this entire mission?" Bulma asked calmly. She couldn't help but roll her eyes. This guy was something else, all right…

"What did you just say to me?" Vegeta growled, standing quickly from his chair, knocking it out from under him. It made a loud noise as the metal him the tiled floor. Piccolo placed his arm in front of Bulma and pushed her back. Bulma didn't want to oblige, but she took a step back anyway. So much for making a good first impression…

"Please forgive her, Prince Vegeta," Piccolo said, bowing again, but Bulma didn't bow this time. Instead, she only lifted an eyebrow and frowned at the spiky-haired Saiyan. She then rolled her eyes again and turned back towards the door.

"I'll be in the training room," she called out to him, "When you've cooled down, please feel free to come and join me. It would be better to see how useful you'll be to me before we take a ship out into space and float around for a while." Then she turned before opening the door. Piccolo was shooting her a warning glance, but she ignored him and kept her glare on the prince, whose eyes were narrowed dangerously.

"And that's exactly what we're going to do, _Prince_ Vegeta. We're going to take a pod out into space for over a week to figure out what happened to your father. And for that time, it's just going to be you," she pointed a long finger at him, "and me." She brought her hand back and hit her chest with her thumb. "So get used to it. I don't want you dragging me down."

Ignoring Piccolo's dropped jaw and warning glace, and the now wild-eyed Saiyan Prince, Bulma walked out the door.


End file.
